Perspectives
by time2thrASH
Summary: A collection of stories about The Dark Knight through the eyes of those around him.
1. 1 - Alfred

**My first story in a very long time. This is not one story, or even one universe. It's not even necessarily a universe published by DC, or a game, or an animated series.**

 **It belongs in the Justice League category as it will extend beyond Batman's character roster. I'm not likely to update regularly, so I'll apologise in advance! This story is really about shaking off the writing cobwebs and exploring a character set of endless possibilities to re-examine my writing skills.**

 **Characters: Alfred Pennyworth**

 **Genre: Family / Drama**

* * *

Chapter One

Alfred

A Father's Privilege

I suppose people think I always see him as the scared little boy crying in that alleyway.

They're wrong, of course.

The truth of the matter is that the Wayne family dynasty ended that night. Even though young Master Bruce lived, the Wayne family died.

I often look to Master Kent for comparison. Is he truly Clark Kent, reporter and honest mid-Western farmer's child? Or is he God taken the form of man, raining fire from the skies?

Spend 20 seconds in his company and you'll know. The easy, genuine smile. The earnestness that radiates from the man. His interest in the lives of others. His love for his fiancée, Miss Lane.

Clark Kent is a man first, Superman second.

Master Bruce?

He doesn't exist. He died alongside his parents. Whatever remains wears his face from time to time so that the nocturnal creature inhabiting him may operate in the sunlight.

That truly is the great secret I hold on to. The one that I will take with me to my grave.

I loathe the Batman.

* * *

I am proud, of course. Boyhood trauma gave birth to a worldwide saviour.

There have been moments where I convinced myself that I was wrong, that Master Bruce truly lived on.

Master Dick's arrival at the Manor for instance. I lectured Master Wayne harshly. _"The boy doesn't need vengeance."_ I told him. _"He needs a friend."_

Perhaps he took my words to heart.

For a moment.

Soon the young Master Dick had a seat in the Batmobile. Beating up street trash every night alongside his new friend.

I knew the truth, however. Robin was no friend to the Batman. Just a foot-soldier, a pawn to use in the never-ending war on the streets of Gotham.

Perhaps even the Batman convinced himself that he cared for the boy.

The illusion shattered one night. Frankly I don't remember how or why, but Master Dick could suddenly take no more. He saw the truth of the Batman.

Relentless? Obsessive.

Fearless? Heartless.

Strategist? Manipulator.

* * *

I feel a great swell of pride as I recall Master Dick storming out of the Manor, seldom to return.

A week later, the phone rang. An hour after, I was stood in the kitchen of a small apartment in Bludhaven watching Master Dick pour us cups of coffee.

He talked excitedly. How Miss Barbara was to move in with him. His new job.

He thanked me for how I had looked after him. Told me I was family, and welcome in his home any time.

It took every ounce of strength I had to not allow the tears to fall. Somehow where I failed with Master Bruce, I triumphed with Master Dick.

Perhaps hubris was the cause of my next dismal failure.

Jason.

The name sends my heart plummeting.

I allowed the Batman to kill the poor boy.

You may tell me that it was the doing of that vile clown, but one would not exist without the other.

I may be comforted by the fact that it is Master Bruce's face under the cowl, and that I am allowed to see it from time to time. But Jason? He is truly gone forever.

Perhaps it proceeds in cycles.

Master Tim's smile brightened this cave for many years. He took the best qualities of the Batman and gave them his own spin.

I have seldom seen Master Bruce smile it seems, but Master Tim's time as the boy wonder enriched our lives.

He too saw the truth of the Batman. But where Master Dick took offence, and where I had long ago given up, Master Tim just tried harder.

Alas, he was defeated by man's oldest enemy. Time itself.

It was time for Master Tim to move on. To replicate the successes of Master Dick. His own home, his own life. Romance, friendships, family.

The Cave and the Manor fell silent once more.

I had hoped for Miss Cassandra to truly bring out Master Bruce's latent paternal instincts. After all, a father's relationship to a daughter is far different to that of a son.

Alas, it was not to be. He has been no more a father to the poor girl than he was to Master Dick.

Then came Master Damian. The worst traits of the Batman wrapped in an al Ghul.

I managed to turn him though. We both did. It seemingly took a bloodline to turn Master Wayne into a father.

All too soon, tragedy struck.

* * *

I hadn't realised that Master Bruce's despair could increase in its severity.

How wrong I was.

I have been standing behind him for some time now. He is hunched over a workbench, fiddling with some contraption or other.

"Something wrong Alfred?" The Batman asks, not looking up from his task.

"No Sir." I respond. "I have prepared a meal for yourself and Miss Cassandra."

"I'm busy." He replies instantly. "Send it down here would you?"

I don't see him as the scared little boy crying in that alleyway. I never have.

I always see the bundle Thomas and Martha brought home with them from the hospital. The colicky infant who kept the three of us up all night. The little boy at bathtime eating the bubbles. That gorgeous smile. The ceaseless laughter and giggling fits. Learning to read sat on Thomas' lap. The first day of school. The skinned knees. The chicken pox. The boundless curiosity.

The bright future.

Bruce Wayne didn't die aged eight.

I let him die.

* * *

My hand pushes the contraption he is holding gently onto the workbench.

He turns to me, confusion in his eyes.

"Alfred?" He asks.

"Take off your mask, Batman."

His eyes widen. He can count on one hand the number of times I have used that name. To his credit, he complies.

For the first time in days I see his face.

"Your parents adored you." I tell him in no uncertain terms. "I would give anything, truly, anything, for them to be here today."

His face is inscrutable as I talk. I am undeterred.

"You were not robbed of your parents. They were robbed of a lifetime spent with you. All their riches, their status. It was meaningless to them. There was only you."

"As they were robbed, I was gifted." I continue. "And to my great shame, I have squandered that gift."

"I have let you pursue this far beyond the point of madness. When you were eight years old, Gotham needed a protector. You have satisfied that requirement admirably. When you were eight years old, you also needed a father. May Thomas and Martha forgive me, for I have been a poor father to you."

"Alfred, I - " He begins, shocked.

I hold up a hand to stop him.

"Allow me a father's privilege." I ask him. "Do as I say, and not as I do."

He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it. Calmly, he awaits my instruction.

"Attend to your daughter."

His gaze shifts towards the floor. After a momentary pause, his gauntlets and cape are removed, and he is halfway towards the stairs.

Once he is gone, I turn to the bench, and pick up the cowl, examining it in my hands.

" _Gotham can wait."_ I think to myself with a smile.


	2. 2 - Mercy, Lex (1)

**Characters: Mercy Graves, Lex Luthor**

 **Universe: None in particular, perhaps early BATAS.**

 **Genre: General / Humor**

* * *

 **Part One**

I always find myself staring at Bruce Wayne.

Lex used to taunt me. He told me that it wasn't becoming of a bodyguard to have a crush.

For the smartest man in the world, Luthor isn't that astute.

We're sat, as we are often, in a very expensive restaurant in upscale Metropolis. I say _we're_ sat, but I of course am standing behind Luthor, scanning the archway, the windows, the staff, the diners. It's exhausting being a bodyguard for a man so loathed.

Sat opposite is Bruce Wayne. I clock him at around 6'2", 210 lbs and the IQ of a glass of water.

OK, that's probably not fair. He's not dumb, he's just not that… smart.

"I'm sorry Lex; I just don't see the applications for this kind of thing." Wayne shrugs, sipping from a champagne flute.

"Bruce…" Lex begins, trying to hide his exasperation. "We're talking about a polymer film that has two and a half times the penetrative ability of Teflon. If we coat munitions with it, we'll make an entire generation of armors _obsolete_."

"But we were looking for a bacteriacidal plastic coating for scalpel blades." Bruce reminds him, brow furrowed.

Lex bristles. Both at the lack of vision and the fact that _"bacteriacidal"_ isn't a word.

"I… _appreciate_ the fact that we were searching for that." Lex replies carefully. "But that is the path research tends to take. From time to time, research for one thing leads us to stumble over something else entirely."

"I'm sorry Lex." Bruce replies. "It's just not an avenue I want to go down right now."

"Then how about a buy-out?" Lex asks, easing back into his chair. "This discovery came about using funds from our joint-venture. I'll purchase the intellectual property from you, and have LexCorp run with it as a solo project. I'll even add a few million as a return on your investment."

"I'll happily consider that, but where does it leave our project?" Wayne asks.

"The antib- _bacteriacidal_ coating?" Lex catches himself. I can see the question caught him off-guard. "I'm more than happy to continue. LexCorp has sufficient resources to run the projects in parallel."

"I'm glad to hear it. To saving lives." Wayne grins, raising his glass. Lex copies the gesture, though with a little less authenticity. We do about 15% of our business with Wayne Enterprises, so we can't afford any misunderstandings or hurt feelings with their CEO.

* * *

"Have we _ever_ done any arms deals with Wayne?"

Lex turns to look at me in the driver's seat of the limousine. These journeys are normally quiet, and he's likely a little surprised to hear me speak. Probably thinks it's downright impertinent.

"No." He replies, turning to look out of the window again. "Wayne Enterprises aren't really interested in that sort of thing."

He pauses.

"Well, actually, Wayne isn't interested. I know there are a few within his board of directors who are aching to expand into that sector." He elaborates.

"Most CEO's are beholden to their board though, right?" I ask.

"Not Wayne." He huffs, thinking about the meeting they've just had. "Wayne is Gotham royalty. Provided Wayne Enterprises remains in the black, the board have no recourse to take action against him. He's good publicity for them when he's not falling out of the Iceberg Lounge at 3AM."

"So what _do_ they do?"

"Medical, hence the project we've collaborated on." He begins. "Aircraft, civilian and space exploration. Global positioning systems. Wider pharmaceuticals. Limited mining and petrochemical exploits. Medical was his father's forte, and that's where the entire company started."

Silence falls for a few moments.

"Why do you ask?" He queries, not bothering to look at me. "Hoping for some dinner conversation with him?"

"I can't shake the feeling that he's hiding something." I reply, ignoring the jibe. "Something _huge_."

"Yes, well you can't believe everything the debutantes say." He replies, arching an eyebrow in my direction.

"A _secret_." I hiss back at him. "Almost everything about him feels false."

I see him opening his mouth to say something 'clever' and cut him off with a real point.

"He killed and buried the polymer deal without you even noticing." I tell him firmly.

Lex looks at me with disdain.

"It is not _dead and buried_." He drawls, as if trying to explain quantum mechanics to a dachshund. "He's taking time to consider it."

"You offered him a blank cheque." I remind him. "Anyone else would rip your arm off."

"He's a lawyer by training." Lex shrugs. "He's thinking about the long game. Is it better to take the money and run or instigate a percentage deal for the lifetime of the patent?"

"I think he doesn't want that polymer to ever see the light of day." I reply with certainty. "When you mentioned rendering armors obsolete, he turned on it. I mean come on; ' _to saving lives_ '?"

"So you think he objects on moral grounds?" Lex summarises, his disdain for the conversation becoming increasingly apparent. "His board would eat him alive."

"But his board answers to _him_." I remind him. "Even a 'yes' from him to you will result in it being tied up in his legal department for years – way longer than it would need to be."

Lex inhales deeply, pretending the passing skyscrapers are more interesting than my point.

"Fine." He says finally. "We have another lunch next week. I'll think of a way to test your little… theory."


	3. 3 - Wonder Woman

**Characters: Wonder Woman**

 **Universe: Justice League (Various) / Arkham (Games) (Batsuit/tech only)**

 **Genre: Drama / Tragedy**

 **I've been asked if I'll be writing some BMWW stuff, I may well do so but be warned - this is NOT it!**

 **This is an idea i just couldn't let go.**

* * *

Broken Spirit

It's raining. Just like that day.

I find myself in Crime Alley once again.

Tim's body is lying in front of me.

I'm frozen in place. My scans have already shown there's nothing I can do. His body is cold. He has no heartbeat. His injuries are extensive.

Just like Jason.

I have failed. Again.

Until now my body has been paralysed by indecision. The rain is pouring around me, battering the cowl.

If I stand here in the rain, time can slow down. The reality of this situation doesn't need to happen yet.

If I lower myself to my knees, and cradle his body like I want to, it's over…

He's dead.

My knees make the decision for me as I fall in front of him. I let the red rose and the note fall off his body as I lift him into my embrace.

I feel my stomach lurch as I look at the smile carved from his lips up to his eye sockets. The white make-up has mostly been washed off by the rain, but still lends him a ghostly pallor. His eyes are no longer sparkling as I close them for him.

Not bearing to look at him any longer, I bury my head in his neck as dry sobs escape me for the first time in years.

A sudden sound in my ear punctuates the sound of the rain.

" _Watchtower to Batman."_ A tinny voice in my ear signals. Despite the poor quality of the line, I hear J'onn's baritone with reasonable clarity.

I don't answer. I'm not sure I can.

I've never not answered the comm.

I feel the temporary lightheaded-ness of the Martian's telepathic contact.

" _Bruce… I'm so sorry."_ The voice in the comm crackles. A pause. _"Can I send someone down?"_

I don't reply.

" _Kal?"_

"NO!" I yell, my head lurching upwards suddenly. The line goes dead, and I can imagine J'onn's shock at my outburst.

"Please…" I reply softly, returning my head to the crook of Tim's neck. "Not him."

The line goes dead, static once again replaced by the sound of the rain.

* * *

As soon as J'onn informs me of the situation telepathically, I request he teleports me down straight from my quarters.

Kal and Barry have been dispatched to the Manor and Blüdhaven respectively to break the news and aid the Bat-family on their patrols tonight.

I want to help Alfred, Dick, Barbara and Damian; but I need to be with _him_ now.

The sensation of my brightly lit, air-conditioned quarters is replaced in an instant by the darkness and wind-induced chill of Gotham city.

I have been here twice before, and frankly consider it three times too often.

The falling rain makes contact with my exposed arms and legs causing me to shiver slightly at the unexpected sensation.

I look up at the dimly lit street sign. This is where it all began for him. J'onn was right – Bruce's secret must be out, and the Joker has taken advantage.

I allow myself a wry smile. He'll have a surprise if he heads to Wayne Manor. A super-fast, super-strong, nigh-invincible Kryptonian surprise.

J'onn has dropped me next to the Monarch theatre. The sign is pointing me round the corner.

I steady myself and take a deep breath. As I step forward I'm incredibly aware of the sound of my heels hitting the concrete. I won't fly towards him though. I want him to know I'm there.

I round the corner and see him instantly. He is on his knees cradling Tim, his back turned to me.

As I'm within touching distance I suddenly freeze. It was difficult to tell at range, but I can certainly tell now.

He is sobbing.

He can't be heard, and if there were any tears, they would be indistinguishable from the rain. But the Batman is sobbing.

I realise quickly that I'm wrong. The Batman isn't here. This is Bruce Wayne.

And right now, he doesn't need Wonder Woman. He needs Diana Prince.

He doesn't react as I drape my arms around him and embrace him; he just carries on mourning his son.

I look up, past Tim's mutilated body and see a discarded note lying next to a red rose:

" _2-0"_

"Bruce…" I whisper in his ear, pulling him a little tighter. "I'm so sorry."

Bruce's shaking has stopped, pulling himself together.

"I'm sorry too Princess." He replies quietly.

Out of nowhere my side literally explodes with a pain I've never felt before. I let go of Bruce and stagger backwards, crashing into a wall. The shock makes it difficult to draw breath and panic grips me for a moment before my warrior training kicks in.

I look down and pull the object from out of my side, wincing and screaming a little as I do so.

In my hand is a blood stained Batarang, blood coating one of the edges maybe two inches from the tip.

As I recall how to take shallow breaths, I watch Bruce reverently lay down Tim's body, pausing to brush away the hair from his forehead with his thumb.

I look from Bruce to the Batarang in my hand in disbelief. He rises to full height and undoes some clips at the base of his neck, removing the cowl. He looks at it in both hands briefly before tossing it aside thoughtlessly.

"W-why?" I narrow my gaze, making eye contact with him. I can already feel the wound starting to heal.

"Some time ago, I theorised if you were ever attacked, you would carry on that fight until you either emerged victorious, or died." Bruce explained.

The pain in my side is a dull ache now as it continues to heal. I push myself up from the wall, and steady myself on my feet.

"This madness… Can't go on." Bruce explained, gesturing towards Tim's body. "I can't ever kill the Joker, but he won't stop until I'm dead."

"If you think I'll fight you to the death- AH!" I reply, cut off by a Batarang slicing through my shoulder. Another hurtles towards me and I block with a bracelet.

As the deflected Batarang hurtles off into the alley, a grappling hook grabs my throat and I'm brought hurtling towards Bruce's fist. He strikes me in the face, and then I'm smashed down into the concrete with his elbow.

I send him flying with a kick and flip myself up. An electrical whine hisses through the air as he activates his shock gloves.

"You're not a match for me Bruce!" I scream angrily at him, wiping the blood from my mouth. He's starting to infuriate me, but I'm dimly aware that that's what he wants.

The darkness of the alley works to his advantage. He is nowhere to be seen. I edge forward cautiously.

I whirl around at the sound of myriad Batarangs whirling through the air behind me. I block each with my bracelets, but continually lose my footing due to their odd flightpaths, allowing myself to be pushed further into the alley.

A deafening bang in each ear sends showers of bricks and rubble cascading down on top of me.

* * *

" _He placed explosive gel on opposite walls, pushed you into their blast radius and detonated them. Classic Batman."_ I scold myself as I languish underneath a half ton of bricks. My heart is hammering, and I'm tempted to rip out Bruce's spine when I get hold of him, but I muster all my fortitude to suppress it.

"You'll struggle to outfight him without killing him. That's why he chose you." I whisper to myself. "You need to outthink him."

I burst out from under the pile, sending bricks flying once more. I take a deep breath and brush myself down, extricating myself from the rest.

"So Bruce, why not Kal?" I shout into the night sky. "Because you think he won't kill you?"

There's no response.

"Maybe the master strategist can't help but use the kryptonite he carries around at all times?" I shout again. "Maybe the last son of Krypton wouldn't be a threat?"

I take a few steps, scanning around for him.

"I think I know why." I shout, slightly sick with what I'm about to say. "I think you couldn't bear to let him see you cradle the body of _another_ Robin."

I don't know where he is, but I can practically hear his heart rate increase.

"How many now Bruce?" I yell. "How many have you failed to save? Your parents! Jason! Tim! Thank God Kal is with Alfred right now, because you certainly shouldn't be trusted to protect him from this mess you dragged him into!"

"You're no born _warrior_!" I continue. "You're a born _stockbroker_! Soft! Weak! Unwilling to do what's necessary! You could have snapped the Joker's neck a thousand times over!"

I resolve myself to go in for the kill.

"What has your restraint ever brought you?" I ask. "I'll tell you what it's brought you – two dead so-"

He lands in front of me, face contorted with rage. He swings his electrified fists at me with all his might and we spar through the alleyway. He's enraged, and therefore sloppy and unfocused. He throws wide, and I easily duck and weave around him. Enough is enough.

I unsheathe my short sword and drive it through his right shoulder, leaving it there. He howls in agony and swings wide with his left. I lock his arm with my own and push, hearing it snap and eliciting another wail of pain.

I'm still locked with him, supporting his dead weight. He's leaning backwards now as I hold him and I can't help myself as he looks up at me.

My right fist strikes him in the face, dazing him. I repeat, and repeat.

"I am not! Your! Punching Bag! Bruce! Wayne!" I scream at him, punctuating my speech with blows to his face. "And I am certainly! Not! Your! Executioner!"

I unlock my arm from his and he crashes to his knees. He's dazed, and looks up at me with unfocussed eyes.

I look at him, broken and at the very brink of defeat as the rain falls around us.

"I want to tell you I didn't mean a word." I say quietly. "But I don't really know any more."

He doesn't hear me. At the very least he doesn't react. A moment later he slumps face first into the concrete.

* * *

I look at his back as the rain runs off his cape. As I look at my sword emerging through his shoulder, my gaze lowers to my own. My hair is matted to my skin with water and blood – mine and his.

" _Watchtower to Wonder Woman. Yours and Batman's vitals are highly erratic, what's happening?"_ J'onn asks.

I pause, wondering what to say.

"Batman requires immediate medical attention. Transport him straight to sickbay." I reply, settling for a basic answer.

" _Acknowledged."_

Batman disappears, and I'm left in the alleyway with Tim. I quietly take a few steps towards him and emulate Bruce's earlier action, brushing away his stray fringe with my thumb. I kneel down and lift him gently into my arms. The Joker's brutality has made him near unrecognisable, and the smile carved into his face fuels my hatred for the wretched clown.

"Wonder Woman to Superman." I announce over the comm.

" _Superman here."_

"What's happening?" I ask.

 _"I'm at the Manor with Alfred. No sign of the Joker. Where's Bruce?"_

"The Watchtower." I reply curtly, trying my best to close off that part of the conversation. "How is Alfred?"

 _"He is… not good."_ Superman replied sadly.

"He shouldn't see Tim like this." I decide. "He should remember him how he was."

 _"It's that bad?"_ Superman asks. I hear a tremble of emotion in his voice and I remember he knew Tim a lot better than I.

"I'm afraid so." I reply. "I know what I'm going to do."

A pause over the line.

 _"OK."_ He replies. _"I trust your judgement. Superman out."_

I lift us into the air, climbing until we see Gotham's skyline.

The city is wet, dark. Miserable.

"You were brave Tim." I tell him. "Braver than him."

I lower my lips to his forehead and linger there for a moment.

"You died like a warrior. I know where warriors should spend eternity."

I turn and head for Themyscira.

We leave Gotham behind us.

Forever.


End file.
